The other day at COSTCO I ran into Phil Gunsauls. The Gunsauls’ family is rooted in the pioneer era aviation, and P J Helicopters is a real resource for Red Bluff.

We were at the coffee section and had a nice conversation about coffee. Mr. Gunsauls pointed out a blend he liked the best, and told me of his time in the military and all the coffee he had consumed and still drinks. It reminded me of my history with that brew.

When my daughter was in high school she performed with an ensemble called the Gold Show; their repertoire was varied, but was mostly upbeat jazzy tunes.

There were eight vocalists and numerous instrumentalists in the group, and they were quite popular.

One of my favorite songs from their repertoire was the Java Jive, a tune from the 40’s popularized by the Ink Spots and brought back in the 70’s by the Manhattan Transfer.

It is very energetic as you might expect something derived from caffeine to be. “I love the java jive and it loves me!” the song loudly proclaims.

Both my mother and father started out each day with one strong cup of coffee; I remember my mother’s mug which said in Swedish a day without coffee is like a day without sunshine.

Despite several attempts I was not able to indulge in my parents’ habit while living at home.

The smell of coffee was attractive, but I found the taste too bitter.

Coffee has an interesting history. It appears coffee was first used as a beverage in the Ethiopian area after shepherds legendarily observed its energizing affect on their animals.

Legend also has it that Turks left a bag of coffee beans outside the gates of Vienna when they retreated during one of their 18th century conflicts.

I have sampled Viennese coffee in Vienna, with the formal settings and all, but found it something I did not have to write home about. (Which is what I am apparently doing now?) In college I learned to drink tea, and a variety of adult beverages. Most nights during the week we would interrupt our studies about 10 o’clock and head off to a local Palo Alto diner for a pot of hot tea and some dessert. I am not sure whether I enjoyed the tea or the company more, but our late night tea break became a kind of ritual for about six of us who would pontificate about world politics, philosophy, and women, as if we were experts.

When I was drafted my fellow inductees would snicker whenever I dipped a tea bag into hot water and poured in what must have appeared to be a mound of sugar. In a short while I capitulated and joined the boys for a true “coffee break”.

In addition to sugar I also put as much cream in my cup as I could get away with just to dilute the brute force of Army coffee. When we were in the field our coffee was brewed in a large soup pot, with grounds tossed on top, and a ladle to “pour” your own cup.

My first job when I got out of the service with the Folgers’ Coffee division of Proctor and Gamble, on Spear Street in San Francisco. When we lined up for our coffee break on my first day on the job, I reached for the sugar and cream and was promptly given the Bronx cheer for adulterating freshly roasted coffee straight from the assembly line.

I confess a teaspoon has never touched my coffee in the 48 years since that upbraiding.

At Folgers I would occasionally go down to the docks to sample sacks of coffee beans, extracting and labeling a small quantity of beans and bringing them back to be tasted.

The tasters were an interesting group of dignified looking older gentlemen who sat on a bench surrounding a large circular oak table that rotated like a gigantic Lazy Susan.

They would bring water to a specific temperature, pour the water over the beans, inhale a mouthful of air, and then make a slurping sound while taking a spoonful of coffee/water which they swirled around their mouths.

They made notes, spit out the liquid into individual spittoons between their legs, and moved on to the next sample. I understand they eventually decided the relative proportions of the various beans to put in the roasters.

Over the years since Folgers taught me about coffee I have enjoyed a variety of coffees and preparations.

I started out married life with a percolator, shifted to a drip machine, and now use the single cup Keurig machine to prepare our morning brew.

With the ubiquity of coffee specialty shops locally and all around the world I have also learned to enjoy lattes, cappuccinos, and iced coffee.

In the summer months we will often sip ice coffee in the yard, enjoying the warmth of the morning and the newspaper before the heat hits.

When I changed jobs and went to work for Crown Zellerbach in 1965, I was surprised to see a young woman present me with a cup of coffee at break time.

That woman was Karen Roy, and part of her job description was to serve the male employees of CZ coffee at break time.

It was a ploy, of course, to keep us at our desk during the break. These days I enjoy a cup of coffee with, Karen, now Crockett, at church where she is an ordained elder.

This is quite a change from 1965 when she was filling the stereotypical female role in a large company and wouldn’t have been allowed to be an elder even if she wanted to be one. (Think Mad Men.) Ronald Reagan once said: “I never drink coffee at lunch. I find it keeps me awake for the afternoon.”

I stopped drinking coffee in the afternoon after Dr. Bill Martin said stopping would help me sleep at night and be more relaxed.

It’s a sacrifice I have made for the last 30 years, and it is also an incentive to get up each morning.

—-

Joe Harrop is a retired educator with more than 30 years of service to the North State. He can be reached at DrJoeHarrop@sbcglobal.net.